


What happens in the Quinx Squad....

by pocketsizedtitan



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Crack, M/M, Swearing, although light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsizedtitan/pseuds/pocketsizedtitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urie and Mutsuki find it hard to get alone time when Sasaki’s always aware of their every move. Shirazu thinks the place is haunted. Saiko remembers why she stays in her room to begin with. And somewhere, Arima wonders when’s a good time to return Sasaki’s book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happens in the Quinx Squad....

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://tangyo.co.vu/post/120829446855/title-what-happens-in-the-quinx-squad-pairing).

“Urie... we shouldn’t.”

“(We should).”

There was a small hush, followed by a tiny giggle. 

“What if Sasaki walks in?”

“(Are you trying to turn me off). It’s fine.”

“Urie--!”

Urie was more preoccupied with other things if you knew what he meant; other things that were way more important than concerning himself with unimportant what-if’s. Or unimportant people. Unimportant people that weren’t the green-haired boy pinned between him and the table. Now  _that_ was worthy of his attention.

As well as his hips. Mutsuki’s hips, that was. He had nice hips. Very ni--.

Light flooded into the kitchen.

“(Fuck).”

“What,” that familiar voice was devastatingly calm, “in the hell?”

Mutsuki had the decency to look ashen and afraid at the sight of Sasaki standing in the kitchen entrance, looking like he had just finished up some work and was in the process of unwinding. Urie, on the other hand, made an annoyed click with his tongue.

Damn. Foiled again.

* * *

“I’m telling you,” Shirazu hurried after Urie, “our home is haunted.”

Why did Urie always get stuck with Shirazu trying to talk to him?

“Like, I got up one night to go to the bathroom, and then I see this.. this  _ghost_ go by. Its face was green and it wore a white robe. I’m seriou-- hey, are you even listening to me?”

“(No).”

Urie didn’t have time to be concerned with whatever it was Shirazu was complaining about. Something about bathroom problems. Probably having a hard time taking a shit. And quite frankly, Urie didn’t want to know about that.

He rubbed his chin, wondering if he could sneak into Mutsuki’s room from outside. Maybe shimmy his way up the fire escape ladder.

It’d be risky, but worth a shot. Especially if it meant avoiding Investigator Freaking Sasaki.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Okay, that voice wasn’t Shirazu.

“Best forget about it.”

And there was Sasaki, the current bane of Urie’s existence, the plague in his life, the -- “(What the fuck is wrong with your hair).”

Sasaki tilted his head. “What’s with that look?”

“Y-Your...” Shirazu had to purse his lips, but the snort was a clear indicator of the laughter he tried to keep at bay. “Sassan, your hair!”

“Oh.” Sasaki touched his hair that was currently rolled up with several curlers. “What about it?”

“Why do you have those in your hair?”

“How do you think I keep it so poofy?”

Shirazu blinked. “Never thought about it. Thought it was natural.”

Sasaki's smile was wistful. “If only. Now off to bed you two.”

Shirazu did as they were told, with Urie torn between not doing as he was told as an act of rebellion, but doing as he was told in a pretend-kind-of-way so that he could sneak off into Mutsuki’s room, but not wanting to give Sasaki the satisfaction in even  _thinking_ Urie had listened to him,  _but at the same time_ knowing he’d be going against his wishes, albeit secretiv--.

 _Thump_.

Did Sasaki just. Hit him. With his fuzzy slipper of all things?

“Like I said, I know what you’re thinking. Goodnight, Urie.”

The goodnight was spoken as more of a threat.

Next time, Urie thought, expression dark. Next time he would let no Investigator Sasaki get in his way.

* * *

It was one of those rare occasions - like so rare, it was the first time to ever happen in Quinx Squad history: Saiko was up and out of her bedroom before two o’clock in the afternoon. 

Now, while her getting out of the room was a rarity to begin with, what made this the First Time Ever in Quinx Squad History was the fact that she was awake for breakfast.

 _Before_ breakfast was even made!

...Okay, honestly, she hadn’t even slept yet and was hungry so she decided to come out because she could smell food being cooked.

_Food. Food. Food. Sassan. Food._

Eyes droopy and weary from playing her PSP all night, Saiko had to rub her eyes as soon as she entered the kitchen; bright from the sun that filtered in. Sun. Hiss.

But there were more pressing matters. Such as her stomach that was practically eating itself.

“Sassan,” she yawned, “’m hungry.”

“It’s almost ready,” he said, back to her. 

He was already dressed in his pinstripe business slacks and a black collared shirt. But over that, he wore his white apron. 

Saiko sluggishly walked over to the kitchen table and sunk into a seat, weakly awaiting her meal. Any moment now she’d be able to rid herself of this feeling of dying and then go back to her game. Ah - he shut the stove off. There was the clinking of plates as he made a plate for them. And then Sasaki was turning around and setting her food in front of her when Saiko looked up, saw his face, and nearly screamed.

Nearly.

She managed to catch herself. That or she didn’t have the strength to actually scream.

Breakfast was taken in silence. And quick on Saiko’s part. Partly because she was hungry, but mostly because she wanted to retreat as quickly as possible to her safe haven.

Which she did.

That was the only time Saiko came out for breakfast.

* * *

Today was the day. Sasaki had left for a meeting. Saiko was in her room, as usual, having cried earlier about Sassan’s face, and Shirazu was, who knew and who freaking cared because Urie had no Sasaki to stop him from going into Mutsuki’s room.

“Hey, Urie.” Mutsuki greeted him with his usual smile. Blinding. Bright. Warm. Things that made Urie feel all weird inside. Kind of like an uncomfortable, foreign weird; it was a weird he wasn’t used to at all, to say the least. But Urie found the more he was around Mutsuki, the more he didn’t mind this weird.

It could be some kind of disease and Urie wouldn’t care. It probably  _was_ a disease.

Well, no, that wasn’t right.  _Sasaki_ was a disease.

This weird with Mutsuki wasn’t even in the same realm as Sasaki.

And why the hell was he thinking of Sasaki at a time like this?

With all thoughts of weird, diseases, and their mentor pushed aside, Urie realized Mutsuki had asked a question.

“What’s up?”

“Sasaki’s not home.”

“Oh.” 

Urie waited for Mutsuki to realize the implications, but Mutsuki just continued looking clueless.

“We can finish what we were doing on the kitchen table.”

“Kitchen table?” 3...2...1... “ _Oh!”_ Queue the blush. “I-if you’re sure he’s gone, then alright.”

“(Fucking hell yes).”

Urie reached for the bedroom door and started to shut it, when he could hear the front door suddenly bang open, followed by a moment of silence, and then a voice that made Urie want to eat knives:

“ _DON’T YOU DARE CLOSE THAT DOOR!”_

@#$@$()%($(!!!!??/

* * *

Normally Arima would wait until a meeting to return a book to Sasaki, but seeing as how their earlier meeting got cancelled due to the sprinklers in the building acting up, Arima had no way to return the book. And it was important that Arima do so  _today_.

Today because it’d been three days since their last encounter when Sasaki had given him a new book, and, well, Arima wanted to talk to Sas-- er, get new reading material A.S.A.P. 

He fiddled with his tie as he stood in front of the Quinx Squad’s building, book tucked beneath one arm. 

Fixing his glasses, Arima knocked on the door.

Sasaki’s familiar voice could be heard from the other side, a muffled, “Coming!”

There was a greeting at the tip of Arima’s tongue, a pleasant smile frozen on his face, conversation rehearsed in his head. There were things he wanted to say, characters he wanted to talk about, what aspects of the plot had caught him unaware.

But all of that was lost in the void; nothing compared to the Sasaki that greeted him:

Face covered with a green face mask, hair rolled with curlers, body dwarfed in a white bath robe, and fuzzy purple slippers to finish things off.

“Hey, Arima. What brings you here at this time of the night? Arima? You alright?  _Arima!”_

* * *

The following day, there were rumors in the CCG that Sasaki Haise had defeated Arima Kishou. 


End file.
